Inspirational Death
by irlruby
Summary: This is what happens when you send a package to the wrong address.
1. Chapter 1

It was 5:50 on a Wednesday night. I had gotten an unnecessary amount of homework, my phone wasn't working, and I had accidentally stained my favorite shirt with my tears. While I was doing my calculus homework, my little sister, Pearl, ran into the room, screaming. I didn't know what she was saying, and when I tried to ask her, she would just scream even louder. Finally, she calmed down. "What is it? Why are you screaming?" She grinned at me, and then said, "I just got two new followers on Instagram!" I looked at her, and shook my head in disappointment.

I am convinced that this generation is probably at its lowest point. People are taking interest in such miniscule things, and no one is exploring the remarkable places outside of the world that they have confined themselves to. People are far too involved with social media, which forces them into a shell in which they are too shy to break out of. Every single day, I see the face of a troubled youth with their face buried in their iPhone. Most of my peers have lost their confidence, because they are deemed "unpopular" on different forms of social networking. Everyone is trying to copy each other. They try to do weird things with their hair, they hardly wear clothes anymore, and they only have good days when their phone is "blowing up." And style? It might as well be fading away; Crop tops, black leggings, paint-on jeans…it's all just trash. Style is the one thing that helped people to learn about themselves; it gave people a sense of uniqueness. People have forgotten about this, it appears, and now everyone is just a human Barbie doll, walking through a bleak world.

I sigh, as my sister runs away, still ecstatic over her net gain of followers. I surf the internet, trying to find some inspiration for the upcoming poetry slam. It's where a bunch of creative individuals (such as myself) come together at a café, to discuss, through poetry, our many grievances about today's society. But this week, I am trying to speak about something other than a damaged world. I'm trying to talk about hope. However, as I search the internet for some hope, I find myself being discouraged. I see that there is talk about a new Action/Adventure movie, which will no doubt force in two pasty people trying to fall in love with each other. _What a cliché_ , I think to myself. Then, I see a picture of seven girls, all dressed with the same ensemble, but in different colors. But then, my search for hope was over when I see a video of a girl getting a spray tan. _Why do you need to waste your money on this? Why do you need to be a couple of shades whiter?_ I ask myself, completely horrified. I close my laptop. I begin to walk around, talking out loud. "Oh, when will these dark and dreary days end? When will I find my inspiration? I use to find the inspiration in everything; from nature, buildings, and even the people around me…I use to draw and design like there was no tomorrow! But, now, I'm afraid that tomorrow will turn out like today. Please, if anyone is up there, listening to my grievances, give me a sign that there is hope!" I finish, and crawl up into a fetal position, awaiting my death.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings. I go over to the door, and open it. I see a postal worker walking away from our house. I then look down. It's a brown box. I pick it up, and take it inside. It didn't quite say who it was addressed to, so I made the rash decision of opening it up. I took out a butter knife, and began to cut through the tape. I opened up the four flaps of the box, and I took out the white tissue paper out of the box. It was in that moment where I could've sworn that time had frozen; the stars had aligned in a perfect position; the world was in a state of flawlessness. What I had called a "rash decision" just seconds ago, I am now calling the most glorious moment of my life. When I opened up those four flaps, I had laid my eyes on what I thought was God's greatest gift: a pair of flowy white pants, white a picture of an angry Waluigi printed all over the pants. I was in shock; I don't think I've ever experienced such beauty in my entire life. I've seen skies that looked as though they were on fire; I've seen a river start to mist during a thunderstorm; I've seen the night sky, and the billions of stars spread out across it. I thought I had witnessed perfect acts of God; until now. This was, by far, the most righteous thing that He has ever made. And I had the most perfect pair of pants, in my hands. More importantly, with these newfound pants, was a newfound inspiration.


	2. The Pants and the Brows

I went to bed that night at 4:00. I spent my time writing down different poems for the poetry slam. I had written exactly 37. Of course, I can't read all of them at the poetry slam. I had written how I had felt after I had received the pants. I just couldn't stop writing. But, finally, I realized that I was going a bit overboard, so I stopped.

I woke at up at 6:30, actually excited to go to school. I had finished my morning routine, and waited for the bus to arrive. In case you were wondering, no, I did not wear the pants. They are far too superior to any being; therefore it would only make sense that I don't wear them. The bus had arrived. I walked onto the bus, and I was immediately filled with despair. Everyone was either one their phone, or in the middle of an intense make out session with their significant other. But, then, I pulled the pants out from my tan tote bag. I had buried my face into them, and smelled them, and inhaled their scent: It smelled like dust, but it was the dust of hope! When I looked up, I saw a few of my classmates giving me the "WTF" stare. _This is it,_ I told myself. _This is your chance to change their lives!_ At first, I was a bit hesitant, but, after looking at the pants, I realized that it was now or never. I began to speak:

"Students of Braunstone High School! I have been watching you all from afar these past few weeks. And, from what I have witnessed, you have all been acting carelessly with your lives! You are all thinking, but are you really _thinking?_ I know that you all have the potential to do something grand with your lives! However, you have all become the prisoners of idle hands. You put your energy into trying to take a picture under the right lighting, instead of trying to be the light of someone else's life! You are wasting your energy into trying to gain acceptance by those who you deem greater than others, and you're only trying to make certain individuals happy, rather than trying to make _all_ individuals happy! You've even forgotten to make the most important person in your life happy… _yourself._ "

My speech had gained the attention of everyone. People had looked up from their phones. Certain people stopped with their unnecessary acts of affection. And people had even stopped their morning gossip sessions. And you know what happened? I had gotten some emotion out of them. I even saw people begin to cry. Amelia Rendon, the most terrifying junior in our school, had gotten out of her seat, and walked over to me.

She was short, but powerful. She was one of the thickest girls I knew. She somehow managed to remain tan throughout the seasons. And she was considered the trendsetter of the school; her style was always very risqué. But what separated her from the others was her face. She was beautiful. She had an oval-shaped face, with a pointed nose, full lips, and long, platinum-blonde hair. But, her most striking feature was her eyebrows. They, in contrast to her hair, were full and blackish-brown, and they were always on point. She had what everyone called "eyebrow goals."

She was super popular; I thought she was going to use her good looks to take me down. But, then, something amazing happened. She took ahold of my hand, and began to cry. She just began to sob, and sob, and sob. Through her rather obnoxious sobs, she began to speak to me. "Thank…you…for so long, I've been holding back who I really am. I have let my insanely good looks, my super smarts, and my sensational amount of popularity cover up the fact that…I'm not who you think I am." She began to sob. One girl had called out, "Then _who_ are you?" Amelia had looked out to the crowd. Once she had settled down, she took a napkin out of her pocket. She raised it to her face, and began wiping it around her forehead. When she raised it away from her face, everyone was in shock of what they saw; her eyebrows were close to gone. It turns out, when she didn't paint them on, they were these thin, blonde, shriveled up pieces of hair. Everyone was screaming. People were _really_ sobbing now. This chaos ensued all the way to the school.

When I got off the bus, I had felt someone grab my hand. It was Amelia. "Isabelle…you are one of the most inspirational people I know. Thank you." She then walked away.

"Don't thank me," I said to myself. "Thank the pants."


	3. Chapter 3

So far, my first two hours of school had been going pretty well. That all began to change when I was heading for my fourth class of the day, English. I had stopped by my locker, to get my books. Suddenly, I heard a voice call my name. But this was no ordinary voice; no, this was Genesis Lien's voice. She was Amelia's best friend, as well as the most feared person in the school. She was only 5'5, but she can beat up anyone, regardless of their size. Some people go shopping for fun; others will hang out with friends. But not Genesis. Instead, she spends all of her spare time boxing. Because of the immense amount of time she spends doing so, she is in exceptional shape. She is what one would call, "ripped." She has two huge biceps that look like _they_ have biceps. And her legs look like two fleshy stones, ready to take someone's head, and crush it until it pops.

When I heard her call my name, my heart immediately sank. My legs were frozen. There were too many words running through my head. _What does she want from me? Why is she always boxing? Doesn't she ever take a break? Why is she so aggressive? Is she even talking to me?_ That last thought had actually relived some of the immense amount of terror that I was feeling. She was probably talking to some _other_ Isabelle, who I have yet to meet. Unfortunately, when I turned around, there she was, right up in my face. Her unnaturally white teeth were gritted, and you could see a vein popping out of her forehead. Her green eyes appeared to be staring into what was left of my soul. I thought about looking away, but then that would show signs of fear. And people like Genesis thrive off of other people's fear.

She began to talk; "You've gotta lot of nerve, exposing Amelia like that. Do you know how much time she spends painting on her eyebrows? She spends HOURS. And you know what you did? You took all that time and effort that she puts into making herself look hot, and you just threw it all away. You threw it all down the toilet, you fucking monster." I didn't know how to respond. I tried though, saying, "G-G-Ge…Genesis…" But before I could go on, she had interrupted me by throwing me to the floor. "Don't interrupt! I'm not finished. Do you know what it's like to dedicate your life to something, only to have it thrown away by some inconsiderate jerk, like yourself? Well? Answer me!" She was screaming now. I was sitting there, in fear, a thousand thoughts running through my head. _Is today the day I die? Doesn't she know that Amelia was the one who came out on her own? Oh, man…she's sweating. Ewww. When is the bell for the next class going to ring? Why isn't anyone helping me? I know they're there._ I tried again to explain; "Genesis, please. Hear me out!" She grabbed me by the throat, and lifted me off of the ground. "Shut up you! No one fucks with my best friend like that, and gets away with it." She threw me back on the floor, and cracked her knuckles. "Now, it's time for you to pay." She smiled a nasty, twisted, evil-looking grin. "I'm really going to enjoy this," she said. In those few seconds that she spent preparing to beat me up, more thoughts ran through my head. _I knew I should've gone to those local karate classes! Why didn't I ever go to them? Did I think I was too tough or something? Oh, man, now I'm going to die. I wasn't even able to finish my poem! And I'm not ready to be buried just yet. Ugh. I hope they at least bury me with my pants._

Suddenly, I was filled with a fierce and intense amount of hope. As Genesis's fist was coming down to my jaw, I had used my hand to counter her attack. I heard gasps throughout the hall. I could even see the look of shock and confusion on Genesis's face. I then reached over to my tote bag, and pulled out my Waluigi pants. "What the fuck?" I heard Genesis whisper underneath her breath. I stood up, and got right in her face, and I started screaming. "I was not the one who revealed that Amelia's eyebrows are fake! It was Amelia! Understand?" Apparently, she didn't like my screaming, because she had pinned me to a wall with one hand, and raised the other one up, as if she were about to punch me. It was in that moment that I made the boldest move of any human being. I took my Waluigi pants, and I slapped her right across the face with them. She dropped me to the floor, and brought both her hands to her face. "Ugh! You bitch! The material just got into my eye! Argh! You're gonna pay for this!"

After that, I ran to my English class. Before I went to the door, I had one of my fellow classmates, Lolita, pull me aside. "Isabelle…that was the bravest thing I've ever seen anyone do. Please, tell me…what led you to make such a brave, life-altering move?" I looked at her, and then at the pants. "These," I said. She looked at me in awe. I then walked into my English class.


	4. Chapter 4

It was 1:30. My last class of the day was Calculus. I was still shaking after my terrifying run-in with Genesis. I had avoided her for most of the day. The one other time I saw her, she was wearing an eyepatch. She didn't see me because I was on the side where her bad eye was.

I had people constantly coming up to me and asking me what had inspired me to hit her. I told them, "I wasn't the one who hit her…it was the pants." Each time I gave that answer, I saw the eyes my fans light up. It was pretty accomplishing.

I had entered my class. I sat in my seat, trying to overhear the different conversations of my classmates. It was a mixture of, "Did you see what Jackie posted on Instagram last night?" "Holy shit, I accidentally walked in on Cash and Miguel making out. So homo." "What was the homework?" "Oh, he didn't give us homework, because we have a test today."

That last comment had filled me with even more fear than hearing Genesis call my name. I turned around. "I'm sorry, but did you say we have a… _test?_ " I asked. One of the girls nodded her head. "Oh, _shit._ I'm screwed," I whispered to myself. Seconds later, an old, chubby man, who I did not recognize, walked into the room. Everyone stared at him. It was quite entertaining to stare at him. He was a very heavyset man on the top of his body, yet he appeared to have sticks for legs. I could imagine the lower portion of his body giving out to the larger portion of his body. He legs snapped in half, and I can just imagine him saying, "Ugh…I knew this would happen someday."

I was snapped out of my trance when he began to talk. "Hello, everybody. I am Mr. Baxtor. I will be taking over todays class, as your teacher is out of state for the week. I will be your substitute for the next few days. While I am here, I expect nothing but respect. You will listen to me, for I am the superior figure who has been put in charge of you. You will cooperate with me, and you will not talk over me. Do you understand?" Everyone nodded. He then pulled papers out of his briefcase. "According to the schedule that your teacher gave to me, you were all assigned to take a test today?" Everyone looked at him with blank stares. They were avoiding the question. "Okay, I'm going to ask the question once more. If I don't get an answer, then you will not only take the test, but you will stay after school today for detention. Understand?" I heard one kid behind me start to make uneasy noises. "Nyeaaaa….." He sounded like very irritated. He sounded like he wanted to run out of this class. He sounded…like Waluigi. I gasped. "Here we go…Now students, were you assigned a test today? On numerical integration?" There was a silent pause. Suddenly, I screamed out, "No! We don't have a test today…you must be looking at the schedule wrong…ugh, Pre-Calculus was given a test today!" After that, there was a silent pause. Mr. Baxtor looked at me as though he knew I was hiding something. He looked at me as if he wanted to cut me for my sins. He also looked a little hurt…as if he knew I was lying, and that my lie had hurt his feelings.

He took the papers and slapped them onto the table. "Those little bastards! I asked them if they had a test today, and they told me that _you_ were the ones who had a test! I should have known! That class is full of ungrateful freshmen who never shut up! Oh, well they're gonna get it tomorrow! They're gonna hear about it from me!" He began angrily organizing the papers on his desk. He started slamming drawers and slamming books and slamming any inanimate object he could find. As he was doing all of this slamming, I realized that while my class was safe from the horrors of Calculus, the freshmen were not. Were they annoying? Yes. Do I think that most of them look like they're in the sixth grade? Hell yeah. But, nonetheless, they were still freshmen. And it was my duty as an upperclassmen to protect them from the evils of high school. But how was I supposed to convince this monster to go easy on them now? It was too late.

Suddenly, I heard my phone begin to vibrate. I stealthily went into my tote bag to try and pull it out. Instead, I pulled out my pants. I gasped. I looked at the pants in all of their glory; they were so bold, so daring. _Why_ _cant I be more like my pants?_ I asked myself. It was then that I realized that I _could_ be like my pants. I raised my hand.

"Sir, I can tell you with certainty that Pre-Calculus wasn't supposed to have a test today, either. They were assigned a practice test, instead!" He looked at me with annoyance. "Oh, please. How would you know so much about the freshmen schedule?" I looked at him, nervously thinking of an answer. "Well…usually when the freshmen have a huge test, they complain and worry about it for hours on end. I haven't heard a single freshmen do that this week." He looked at me. He then looked at his papers. He brought them really close to his face. He began to squint his eyes. "Eh…maybe he gave me the wrong schedule. Just…get to work, you maggots!" After, he pulled out his computer, and began typing angrily. _He's probably writing fan fiction about killing off all of the freshmen in the world_ , I thought to myself.

The bell rang, and everyone sprinted out of that class. A few had actually thanked me for my lie. As I was walking through the halls, someone walked up to me and said, "Damn, Isabelle. You're really slaying today. You've never been this cool before! Please, tell me, what is going on with you! You're acting so reckless….I love it!" We both laughed. "But seriously; you've never been this cool before. What's your secret?" she asked. I looked at her, and said, "Haven't you heard? I have the pants that could spark a revolution." I pulled them out for her to admire. I put them back in my bag, and walked away.


	5. Chapter 5

Every day after school, I go home with my friends, Rose and Lillian. Rose is a Junior. She's old enough to drive. We met through a theatre program. We bonded over our hatred of certain teachers that go to our school. The first time I heard her say that she thought our Chemistry teacher, Mr. Barnes, was an idiot, I knew we would become good friends. She was also into Terry Hayes, so that was another thing we could talk about.

Lillian, on the other hand, was kind of just _there_. She didn't really have much to say. When she did say something, it was usually an illuminati conspiracy, or she makes a bad pun. It was pretty random. She kind of scared me. I heard that she knows how to perform certain Satanic rituals, and she performs them so that the people she hates will receive bad luck. This kind of comforts me; she must like me to a certain degree, because these pants are anything but bad luck.

On the way home, Lillian stayed in the back, listening to what we thought was Kanye West. Rose and I were up in the front seats. It was kind of quiet. She then began talking to me. "I'm really pissed off. I've been trying to play Mario Kart, but all of this stupid homework keeps getting in the way." She stopped talking. I didn't know how to respond. People's complaints about homework usually bore me. She started droning on for a few more minutes about her homework. I kept thinking to myself, "How do I change the subject without seeming rude? Why does she think I care?" I tried to look to my pants for inspiration. Nothing.

Suddenly, my phone rang. It was my friend, Avery. She was one of the hosts of the poetry slam. Rose saw that my phone was ringing, and she allowed me to answer it. "Hello?" I asked, in vain. "Hi, Isabelle! It's Avery. I'm just letting you know, the poetry slam is this weekend. I have a _lot_ of family coming down to see this. Unfortunately, all of the people who signed up have the literary talent of a first grader. Some people have submitted some of their poems, and they all make me cringe every time I read them. Do you know how disappointed my parents would be if they found out I dropped out of college to open up a café that all morons hangout at? It would _not_ be good." She paused. I then asked, "Um…yeah. What exactly does this have to do with me?" "Well, I've seen some of your work from previous years. I saw that you were able to develop your writing skills, and become very talented with your art. I need you to be able to write a poem so _amazing_ that it will help the audience to forget about the other terrible poems. Do you think you can do that?" she asked.

I looked out at the open road. And then I looked down at my pants _Definitely_ , I thought to myself. I've gained so much inspiration over the past couple of hours; why couldn't this streak extend into the next couple of days? I could totally do it! "Hello? Isabelle? Are you still there? Did you hang up on me? Ugh, I knew I should've gotten a new phone…" I heard Avery say. "Oh, no, I'm sorry. Yeah, I'll be able to write a kick ass poem," I said. And then I hung up.


	6. Chapter 6

After Rose had dropped me off to my house, I did my homework, and then I watched a whole season of "Scrubs." I then decided to go online to read some fanfiction. I went onto to read the amazing works of others. I had read works about Sherlock, Steven Universe, and Pretty Little Liars. All of these stories were so creative, and carefully written. The only thing that disappointed me was the unpleasant reviews left by people who disagreed with the authors. Here, they were able to make monstrous, disgusting, and dim-witted comments on the brilliant work of others. The worst thing, though, was the fact that they were far too cowardly to reveal their true identity; they left their reviews anonymous. Rose had received a nasty comment on one of her stories, and she took action. She went to the cops, and the cops were able to track down the code of the device where the comment was sent from. They were then able to locate the device itself, which led to the address of the commenter. Rose decided to give them a visit.

At 11:45pm, I had finished reading. I decided to go to bed. Although I wasn't really tired, I needed to go to bed early if I wanted to be able to get up tomorrow. I tried to just close my eyes, and just wait for myself to fall asleep. After thirty minutes of tossing and turning, I had concluded that I couldn't just _fall_ asleep. I got out of my bed, and I ran downstairs. I ran out of the house, and I just started running. As I was running, I started to look around. I watched all of the houses as I ran by them. They were all the same, just different colors. I looked down the road, which was empty, with nothing to fill it but me, the trees that surrounded it, and the actual road itself. I looked up at the sky, which was pitch black. There were very few stars. After I had ran a mile, I was at the end of my street. Except, it didn't look like the end of my street; the end of my street, there was just another intersection that led into another neighborhood.

Instead, there was a bridge that stood about fifteen feet over a cascading ocean. At first I was hesitant about crossing the bridge, but then I thought, _What could possibly go wrong?_ I had started to walk across. The trees were covered in pink flowers. The ocean was misting. Suddenly, I began to hear a very faint noise. It sounded like a cross of someone trying to cough and someone trying to talk. I decided to ignore it. Suddenly, the talk-cough noise started to grow louder. And it sounded like more people were doing it. I looked out towards the ocean, and then I saw it: there were several ogres. They were short, green, and slimy. They were struggling to walk through the ocean. They were holding torches, and they were walking near the bridge. I didn't know what to do; I was terrified. They began to get closer. I started to look around for my Waluigi pants, and to my horror, I had forgotten them at my house. "No!" I screamed. I then started to run. As I kept running, I saw more ogres emerge from the ocean. However, none of them were able to reach the bridge. I kept running, trying to see where the end of this bridge was. Suddenly, I heard another voice; a familiar voice. "Nyyeeeaaa!" I looked around, trying to find out where this celestial noise was coming from. And then I saw him; Waluigi; He was standing on the bridge, about ten feet away from me, wearing his signature hat, and his suspenders, which was layered over his purple shirt. He was twirling his mustache around his finger. I began to run over to him. Just as I was about to reach him, he jumped off of the bridge, and started to kill the ogres. "Waluigi, nooo!" I screamed. But he was doing it, he was hurting the thousands of fire-bearing ogres. He was so graceful. He just jumped on top of them, and _boom_ they were dead.

I turned around to go back home, when I saw an ogre throw their torch onto the bridge. It immediately caught on fire, and it then began to spread. I tried to outrun it, but it had caught up to me, and before I knew it, my entire body was on fire. I fell to the ground, and I began to scream. I couldn't think clearly; everything around me was on fire. I laughed, and then thought, _It must've been my mixtape._ I was about to accept death, when I saw a mysterious figure next to me. The figure had grabbed me, and pulled me up. It then blew in my face, and suddenly, my body was no longer burning. I was then able to see the person who had saved me. "Princess….Peach?" I said. She looked out to the ogres, and then at me. "Yes?" she responded. "What…is….this?" I asked. She then looked out at the dying ogres, and then back at me. "Why don't we go somewhere a little more…peaceful?" She then snapped her fingers, and suddenly we were in a room. The room looked like a wreck. It was dark, and the only light came from the television, which just showed us static. There was a sofa, and a torn up rocking-chair. Peach walked over to the rocking chair, and I went over to the sofa. She then turned her chair to my direction. "You wanna know why all of this is happening?" I nodded my head. "Well, when you ran out of the house, you walked into a very disturbed territory. You walked into the Land of Haters. The ogres? Those represent your haters. They were disturbed by your success. They began to try and insult you, but they were too scared to actually say it to you face, so they began to choke on their words. That's why they began to cough. And they couldn't get onto the bridge, mainly because they didn't want to confront you. They were too scared. They were throwing those torches from afar to try and get you to give into them. But you have that something special that not many people have; you believe. You believe in the power of Waluigi, who rewarded you by taking down the haters. Your faith has saved you." I looked at her in disbelief. Suddenly, a cat walked into the room. Peach picked the cat up. "Why, hello there!" she said to the cat. "This is Pedro. He lives here. He brings the same amount of happiness that Waluigi brings to people. He's a good cat." She began to pet him. There was a silence. I got up, and then asked, "Well, what now?" Peach put Pedro down. She then walked up to me, and punched me in the face. I grabbed my face, and closed my eyes.

When I opened them, I was back in my bedroom. I looked at my clock, which said 6:13am. I then saw my Waluigi pants, which were on the floor. "This is gonna be a good day," I said to myself.


	7. Chapter 7

After I woke up, I had gone downstairs, and performed my morning routine. At 6:45, I went outside, and found Rose's car parked in the front of my driveway. I got into her car.

At first, it was silent. We then began to talk about who we want to win for the 2016 Presidential Election, different films, and our thoughts on death. Well, Rose talked about what she believed life was like when she died. She thinks it's like life on Earth, except it "sucks a lot less." I told her that was an agreeable theory. Things then went silent again.

As we pulled into the school, we started looking for potential parking spots. As we were doing so, Rose started talking. "Okay…so, the reason I brought up the whole thing about death is…because…" her sentence trailed off. "Well? What is it? Why did you bring up the topic of death?" I asked. "Because…I found a Ouija Board in my closet. I never knew I had it until a week ago. I was too scared to use it on my own. So, I was wondering if you wanted to come over my house on Friday, and we could see if it actually worked." I stared at her. Being the moral person I was, I knew that using a Ouija Board was a pretty bad thing to do. However, I was never told why. Yet, there was something that didn't seem right about using one. "I'll think about it," I told her.

I went to school. It was a decent day, with not as many radical things happening today as they did yesterday. I did score a 70% on my Chemistry exam, so that was pretty lucky. I was also successful in finding two dollars on the floor, so I was able to use that money to pay for my lunch.

When I got home, I took out my history homework, and then I thought to myself _I'll do it later_. I then pulled out my laptop, and started looking up random things on Tumblr. Suddenly, my mom walked into my room. "Hi, Isabelle. I found these in the hamper, and I was about to wash them, when I realized you had never worn them. Isn't it crazy that I would remember something like this?" my mom said, laughing. She pulled out my Waluigi pants, and dropped them on my bed. When she walked out of the room, I grabbed my Waluigi pants. I almost started sobbing. What was I going to do if she had washed the luck and magic out of my Waluigi pants? I would have never been able to survive. And do you know how lucky I was that she didn't wash out the magic? What if I didn't have the pants at all? I wouldn't be half as fierce as I've been these past couple of days.

After making this realization about how uncertain my future would be without those pants, I decided that if I didn't have the Waluigi pants to guide my future, there was only one other thing that could help me see my fate more clearly: The Ouija Board.


	8. Chapter 8

I had gathered everything in my room before I began my Ouija Board ritual. I gathered the Ouija Board, and placed it on the floor. I took out four candles, lit them, and I placed them around the Board. I then said a prayer, asking for any bad energy to leave the room, and to invite in only good spirits. I then sat on my floor, trying to psych myself up. The thing was, I _really_ wanted to use the Ouija Board. I really did. But, I have heard so many terrible things about using one. Not only do people find themselves in the constant state of paranoia, but they also find themselves growing addicted about what will happen to their future, and all of the possible outcomes of every move they make.

But, I didn't have my pants. For the past week, the Waluigi pants have been my guide. I've made all of the right choices with them. I've grown the courage to say and do things that I normally wouldn't do. Without those pants, I am nothing. I would just go back to being the quiet girl who had so many opinions, but was never able to speak them. I needed to know how I would do without the pants.

Suddenly, my door swung open. I turned around, horrified, to see my little sister. She stood at the front of my door, jaw dropped. She looked at me, then all of the supplies on my floor. She screamed, and then ran out of my room, yelling "Isabelle's performing satanic rituals! I always knew it!" While she was doing that, I blew out the candles, took the Ouija board, and threw it away.

When I ran downstairs, I saw my sister yelling in my moms face. My mom looked agitated. She was trying to get my sister to calm down. She tried to talk over her, but my sister just kept screaming things, like: "You always call _me_ the devil of the family!" and "I always knew there was something wrong with her!" While my sister kept droning on, I spotted a laundry basket at my mom's foot. I found the Waluigi pants, which had sole light shining on them. I looked at them, and although they had been washed, the magic had not been cleaned out. I walked over, and grabbed the pants. I decided to walk out of the room. "WAIT! Look!" my sister screamed, pointing at me. "She's getting away! She's trying to escape!" I turned around. My mom looked incredibly pissed. "You're not going anywhere until you explain to me what all of this is about!" she said. I looked at her, then at my pants. _It's a good thing I grabbed them when I did_ , I thought to myself. I looked back at my mom, clenched my fists, and I let myself be hit with all of my mother's verbal abuses and questions.


	9. Chapter 9

After my mom finished yelling at me, I went upstairs, into my bedroom. I looked outside my window, to see a cat. The cat was minding it's own business, when suddenly a dog came out of nowhere. The cat was about to fall asleep, when the dog lunged at it. The dog began to bite the cat. The cat started to shriek in pain. I looked helplessly, feeling bad that I was unable to help the poor animal in any way. Suddenly, I remembered what I was holding in my hands: the Waluigi pants. I looked at them, and then at the struggling cat. It was then I knew I could take the beastly dog down.

I bolted out of my room, down the stairs, and out the front door. I whipped the door open, and was greeted by the dog's hostile stare. I didn't know what to do. So, I just started to flail my pants in the air. This distracted the dog, who completely forgot about victimizing the cat. He began to run towards me at an alarmingly fast pace. I knew he could smell my fear; I was _petrified_. As each second passed, he was getting closer and closer. His teeth looked sharper than scissors. His bodyweight made the floor shake; I felt like I was in the middle of a mild earthquake. I did nothing; I just stood there like a dunce. I looked ahead, and I saw that the cat had disappeared. It probably escaped as soon as the dog had been distracted. I had decided two things in that moment: I was not going to fail now and I was also going to take a cue from the cat, and escape the dog's wrath. I took one step to my right, went back inside of my house, and shut the door in the dog's face. I could hear it's head bang against the door. Although I felt bad for causing the dog such humiliation, I felt good that I was able to save the cat. And I felt even greater that my confidence had returned!

I looked at the Waluigi pants, and I knew that I was going to be able to change the world.


End file.
